She smiles at him, softly, repeatedly, and a bit hesitant. He can see she doesn't know exactly where to start. Don't get shy on me, Isobel?
He chuckles at his thought. They are shy around each other all the time, after all. She seems to grasp what he is thinking though, and her smile grows wider and she shakes her head, ever so slightly.
"Dear Lord Merton..." At this, she starts to laugh, truly laugh, and her hands move up to cover her face. He can see how she is so embarrassed, so mortified at her behaviour and he could be decent now, and turn away to give her time to compose herself.
He's not offended, not in the least, he knows how awkward it all is. He has never truly courted a woman before, his first proposal of marriage to his later wife had differed completely to this second one to her, and everything is so different now anyway. So, probably, he should do the decent thing, but truth be told, he thinks it's wonderful, how she sits there laughing at her own bashfulness, how the sunlight that streams through the window catches in her hair and how, in only a few minutes, they could be looking forward to a life together. We truly could.
So he does not care, because her mind must be made up anyway, and slowly grasps her hands, takes them away from her face and gathers them in his own. She certainly seems surprised by this, but she looks pleasantly surprised to him.
Her gaze falls down to their gathered hands for a moment, between them on the settee, and when she looks up again there are tears gathered in her eyes, and he cannot quite place them, but she does it for him with saying: "Richard, the thing is..." He realizes they have changed in that moment, that his gesture has changed them. They are both serious now, truly serious. "...the thing is, and I have thought about this for a very long time..."
He gently squeezes her hand. It's alright, Isobel. You just have to say either way.
She cannot say how moved she is. She has been hit by nerves, and he came, literally came, to guide her out of it. He looks at her, and it's not as if he expects her to say yes, or does assume it, his look is telling her it is alright, however she has decided, he wants the best for her and she only has to say.
She has been flattered by his advances, by his interest in her, and then his declaration of love. Yes, she has been flattered. She's lonely too, not necessarily in the devastating way she was after Matthew has died, but she is. And it's not that she would take anything or anybody just to get away from it, but she has thought, and thought, and thought... To be with him is good. And I do like him. This would make her Lady Merton. Could I be that? It certainly doesn't sound so wrong.
She has asked him to come for tea, because he does deserve an answer eventually, and although she still hadn't been entirely convinced, she had made up her mind. What had been missing then, she does now have, in a simple gesture from him. He has come for her.
"Yes. Yes, I will marry you." And she sees how his face brightens up, how he takes her hand and kisses it, and all is said now. Her tears start to fall, and it's because the burden has been lifted from her heart. It's in the open now and it feels right. She truly believes that she has every right to be happy, life has taken so much from her but now it gives, in form of him, a life together, something to share.
Her saying yes seems to have unburdened him too, of his worry to get it right, his reluctance, and he softly wipes her tears away and leans in. And suddenly he is kissing her, and she's surprised and it's awkward at first, but they will have many more awkward firsts, and then it's good, and right, and it's been such a long time for both of them, but it all doesn't matter now.
Love is no longer a word spoken, but felt. Truly, whole-heartedly. Yes.
They let go, and just look at each other, allowing themselves a few moments of time to get used to all that is new between them. Yes. Oh, yes. It would all be well now.
A/N: Thoughts on this would be very welcome. :)